


put down your weapon (and settle our ashes together)

by Blepbean



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, This is a song of achilles au btw lol, War, i am sorry for all the mispellings and errors that i have in here aoidiaodijsadoi, idk how to tag, please tell me if i missed anything that i could tag this lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: In the 100 year war Wu is born in riches in Ba Sing Se with Mako, who's prophecies tell him he's promised to be one of the best warriors in his generation along with fame and gold. Mako is everything that Wu is not, strong and brave and a warrior. They set out into the middle of the night to train with a stranger, and to join the rebels to fight against the fire nation. But Wu knows that Mako will live and die the battlefield, it's a matter of time before he'll see his lover die in front of him.“Do you think we can live in the mountains after all of this is over?” I asked, hands around his waist, trying to remember how his muscles felt, the grooves and the slopes of it. I didn’t know why I asked this stupid question, I knew the answer. He will die by the battlefield. He’s one of the best warriors in our generation and his name will be etched into history.“Do you want to?” He let a sly smile spill, the corners of his lips, I see it, I’ve kissed it so many times.“I want to,” I said.
Relationships: Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30





	1. you can use a spear as a walking stick

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ BEFORE READING  
> 1\. this is a song of achilles au set in the 100 year war. if u dont know what song of achilles is its a retelling of the illiad, between achilles and patrolocus and the book explored their bond. yadia yadia  
> 2\. there's violence and blood in this so tread carefully  
> 3\. ive decided to stick close to the writing style of the book, which all is poetic and takes place in 1st person pov of Wu. DONT LET THAT SCARE YOU PLEASE, it gets better trust me  
> 4\. ive also put in bits in italics that came from song of achilles between time skips  
> 5\. I left out a lot from the book and skipped and like changed a lot of stuff from the book so 😔😔
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

We were childhood friends. Me and Mako. Good friends. Childhood friends. We met at the Ba Sing Se University, I dropped his books and when I looked up, I saw the most gorgeous thing in the whole universe, bright, not like the sun but it burned with something so _fierce_. Mako helped me up, and that touch lit something to both of us. A friendship. 

“What do you study here?” I asked, clutched his books close to me.

“The general stuff,” Mako huffed, “but I’m not interested in that, I’m learning how to fight in my spare time.”

“Really?”  
  


“There’s an underground fighting arena that allows _all_ benders and non-benders to fight, there are even some fire benders too--”  
  
“--But they’re the enemy!” I piped up, back then I was so terrified, but now I'm not, “how is it not found out--”  
  


“--Ba Sing Se is big,” he said, eyes blinged with ambition, of glory and power, Mako is a man who wanted more than to be locked within these walls, “you can hide a lot within these walls, you know that.”

“It’s illegal.”

  
“Not unless you don’t tell anyone.”

He edged on, he tested me, see if I’ll budge and tell the secret that there is an arena underground. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut. He gave me a secret and I kept it all to myself, kept it inside me. I still have it inside me to this day.

“Do you go there often?” I said after a second of pause.

“Every day, I’m a natural though. I’m the best fighter,” he said, voice brimmed with excitement, fury. I can imagine how he fought, with the wind behind his back, sweat dripped from his forehead with a wicked smile that that gleamed of the very stars, something that was unreachable to mortals like me, only to the gods.

Maybe Mako is born from the gods, that’s what I thought then, that’s what I still think. Gods, beings that are unbound to the earth, didn’t they make the rules of the universe, to see who lived and who died to people like me?

Mako sighed, “someone wants to train me though, somewhere far away.”

“Where? Outside of these walls?” 

“Yes.”

I’ve never been outside the walls. Always stay within the safety of Ba Sing Se. I wanted him to ask me if I could come If I could join him to run far away. I would fall and I would trust him to catch me. Ditch the priceless antiques that fill my rooms, the posh green suits that I wear every day. There is no use for me back home, I am nothing but a rich kid dressed in gold and suits.

I think I’m already exiled from my family. I have nothing here. I want to leave. At that moment, I wanted him to hold my hand and burst out of the University, run out of Ba Sing Se, feel the ground underneath us and yell in joy, hold our hands up until the air is filled with our yelling and we are glowing like the very suns. Our joy would be _bright_.

“You should come with me,” he said.

“What?” I said, pretending to be shocked, I lowered my voice, “you’re mad.”

“Nothing is keeping you here other than that ugly green suit of yours.”

I punch him on the shoulder, he yelps, “how do you know.”

“I’ve seen your family and how you act. You’re just a doll to them and they dress you up, but also to them you don’t exist. Why do you stay?”

I don’t know the answer to the question. So I say this instead, “how about your parents? Your parents? Your brother?”

“My mother left when we were born to save us from being killed. My father is a drunk fool and my brother will be fine.”

“How selfish can you be?”

“Nothing is keeping me here. I don’t belong here. Come. I’ll meet you at midnight.”

And he walked away from me. He let the choice linger inside me. He has approached me before, in our shared classes in history, always had that hard-edge on him when he gritted his teeth, but has the softest smile when the prank that he pulled the teacher worked. Outside that? Nothing, before I do not know what his focus was on studies, his full picture of his family and how his eyes trembled with ambition, something I haven’t seen before.

“Mako,” I whispered to myself, the others stared at me weirdly but I could not care. I said it again. Let it roll out of my tongue so naturally just like breathing, just like how my chest rose and fell when I slept.

Ma-ko. Mako. His name is Mako and he came to ruin my perfect life like a storm.

  
  


_“Name one hero who was happy.”_

  
  


I went with him. I took a cloak with me, a good, a gorgeous deep purple. It got soaked in the rain. He pulled me out of the grounds of my house and I didn’t bother to look back at the very life that I am leaving behind for _him_. I am leaving the perfect life for a boy named Mako (his name, it rolled out my tongue so naturally).

When we stepped on the puddle and our way to the train, I felt the cold water soak my socks. I did not care. I could hear my mother in my ear. 

_Wu, why are you leaving a perfect for this boy? You could become a politician? Or maybe even a king if we pulled enough strings._

I do not care.

_You are foolish, you know who he is._

Oh, I know.

_I don’t think you know fully. He is a ticking time bomb. You cannot love this man. You will die if even a single person knows._

I’m willing to take that risk.

_You could pretend and marry a wife._

No. I can’t. I don’t think you understand. I’m willing to go with him. If I was blindfolded I would still trust him to pull me into the train and not get us caught. I trust him that much, I know that I’m a fool. 

I felt the train shift, ran by earthbenders. We’re halfway across the middle walls. Mako let go of my hand a while ago, I didn’t notice. But I miss that _warmth_ that radiates from him, like he’s the sun, no, not the sun, not bright like that, a fire, an inferno.

_Do not come back crying to me._

Alright, Mother. 

I am all alone. But I’m alone with Mako. 

  
  


_I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family;_

  
  
  


The man that Mako talked about that he met in one of his matches lived far away in the highest mountains. I think I am getting used to walking and walking, to the sweat that stuck to my neck or how the weather changes so quickly. 

“He is amazing, he saw one of my matches and said I was a prodigy.”

We stepped over a small stream of water. It doesn’t look clean. The forest, it has become our home in the last two months, yet we are still learning how to traverse it, like a newly bought home, still trying to learn the layout by heart, learning where the books go, where the loose floors are.

I looked up to the skies, the branches of the thick trees towered over us like weird fingers. But the sky. It is beautiful, a cloudless sea of blue. It is quiet, and I think I might get addicted to this, noiseless except how Mako breathed or how his footsteps are heavy that demanded authority.

“Is he that amazing?” I asked, stepping over a log.

“He said I was this… _Demigod,_ whatever that means.”

Whatever that means. I said to myself in my head. _Demigod_ , such a silly word.

Mako continued, “when he saw me fight in the arena with only just a broadsword and sometimes a bow against benders—“

“—you fight against benders?” I interrupted.

“Yes, did I not tell you that?”

“No,” I said, “is it dangerous?”

“No, they’re idiots,” he boomed, “but that man, he talked like I was the gift from the spirit world.”

“Like the Avatar?”

“Not the _Avatar_ , the avatar has come too late. He’s no gift from the spirit world.” A second later he laughed, and it filled the forest like it was white noise, he ceased his laughter, I wish he didn’t, I wanted to hear more, “he said that I was one of a kind, and I am destined for fame and war, glory in the battlefield.”

“Against the fire nation?”

“It doesn’t matter what side I’m on, all I care about is glory.”

I fell into line with him and I let my eyes trace the outline of his nose, his face, his hair, his body, _him._ It dawned on me then that he will live, and he will die with the sword, in the battlefield where many men go (unlike me, I’m not fit for the battlefield, I am a mouse compared to Mako). I can picture him in his armour-like the earth soldiers wore, or maybe that’s too boring for him. He’ll stand above, only fighting with a sword as he moves so precise, so quickly, like wind, like water.

“Did he say something stupid prophecy?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but all I know is that my name will be engrained into history, I’ll be known as one of the most fearsome warriors.”

He talked about it like it was the most beautiful thing, like poetry. But I know that it’s sugar-coated.

What he means is that: “I will die, soon.”

Soon. I do not know how _soon_. But I try not to think about it. I stared at him. Amber eyes, fire. He is the inferno, a living embodiment of the flames. But for me? What am I? A fragile forest that could all burn down within just a single spark? Maybe I can train with him, become a warrior so I can prove to myself that I am not just a rich kid that’ll go down with a simple punch. I cannot ever wish to reach the level of Mako. He is something of his own, ethereal, otherworldly.

A Demi-god. Whatever that means. Is it greater than being an Avatar? I don’t know.

  
  


_Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old;_

  
  


The man that Mako talked about was an old warrior who fought in the early stages of the war. He’s a non-bender, lived within the hole of the mountain. He did not give his name. We’ve lived with him for a while now, about half a year. We are both eighteen now, or perhaps nineteen or twenty. We did not know. We let the sands of times slip from our hands but we did not care.

He taught us how to hunt, we would go down the river that roared and looked into the rapids, his eyes were always steady when he held out the wooden spear that he made himself and stabbed it into the water and pulled it out, a fish stuck on the other end, helplessly flapping.

Mako would try this, he would get his fish within thirty seconds.

I would get mine in five minutes. But that is fine. He is something on his own.

He often pointed to the deers in the forest and took a deep breath before he drew his bow in and let the arrow fly through the air, within a split of a second the poor creature collapsed to the ground with an ugly cry. 

Mako would do this easy, he never missed.

More than half of my shots would hit.

He also taught us medicine, about herbs and plants that can help a warrior’s injuries. He pointed to the ferns, the vines and even the grass that can sanitise a wound. I remembered back to the word that he wrote to the walls of the cave. _Surgery_ was the word that he used, saws and other tools to amputate someone’s legs.

This, this wasn’t Mako’s thing. This was my thing. I could memorise all the plants, tell apart the poisonous ones from the useful ones. I could treat minor wounds that I get with no sweat. This, this is what I am good at. It gives me joy so bright that I get blinded sometimes.

  
  


_Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back._

  
  


I find Mako training in the ruins of a broken building, but what is left is just cracked stone floor against the field of yellow grass that sprawled like someone spilled the sun itself. It danced in the wind, the reeds reached up to our waist when we ran through them.

When I stepped further, I watched him brandish the spear, a new weapon that he added to his arsenal. Although Mako was proud and loud he sometimes goes quiet, and brooded and talked it through the way he only knew, fighting. I could not move, I almost did not breathe. 

The way that he moved, it was effortless like how he breathed. His face was calm and blank but his amber eyes bore with so many emotions that he used for his very strength. I see him slash out the spear in front of him, moved his left foot back as it picked up dust. I can see him now, in battle. He could probably take on twenty men and leave without a single cut on his face as he moved like water, wind like he’s _weightless._ Blood seeped through the fire nation soldier as he struck through the air and quickly pulled it out with so much fury that it practically burned his surroundings.

He is a fighter. He is a born warrior. A Demi-god. Whatever that means.

He quickly spotted me, the sun behind him outlined his body like gold. I tightened the shirt that I made on my own, made out of cotton, my sandals made of wood, my pants made of flex fabric I’m no longer the rich sad kid, I’m something else.

We met eyes. The fury in him melted away like I am the cure for fury itself. The sun coated him in honey and gold and so many yellow things, making his black hair glow like obsidian, so dark yet it shines. His face, it is slick with sweat but the sun made his skin a bit like just-pressed orange, soft like he just got done playing outside and the sun warmed his skin. 

“Hey,” he said, he dropped the wooden spear to the ground. He didn’t wear shoes, the soles of his feet were pink but just a little dirty, a reminder that he fought.

“Hi,” I breathed out.

The wind blew past us and tousled his hair, messy, it’s getting long, already creeping up to his eyebrows. I feel this urge, this _pulls_ to say something.

“Who trained you?” I asked.

“No one,” he said, I don’t know if it was a lie or not, “in the middle of the night I snuck to watch the arena. I learned from them a little.”

A little. I’m terrified of him, just a little bit. He is otherworldly, something that thudded with authority and someone who should be more than six foot. But I know he would not hurt me. He will _never_ do that.

He’s different.

“No one else?”

He nodded.

Then it came to me, “fight me.”

Mako laughed. I felt like he was my parents, “why would I do that?”

I stepped into the stone-cold flood, the phantom memories of who used to live here underneath me, it’s strange. I try to make myself taller and tougher, my arms and biceps have gained a bit of muscle, it’s weird. Mako, he made fighting look so effortless, almost something that is art, natural, a secret skill that is passed through generations.

And even if I mirror a _fraction_ of what he does, then I would be content.

“Fight me,” I dared, tried to make my voice loud, to fill the room as he does.

“You don’t have any weapons—“

“—I don’t care, fight me.”

He scoffed at me. He took a step forward.

“Are you afraid?” I didn’t mean to say that out loud, Mako laughed at me so childishly, I forgot that he used to be a child, it’s like it’s hiding under all of the blood and flesh.

“No.”

“Then fight—“

Within a second he has already entered my space, he moves his foot to trip me and I can already feel the stone-cold floor hit my head—

It didn’t.

He’s holding me, a knife that he brandished out of nowhere a few inches away from my eyes. I can hear the way his breath came, quick and shallow, impatient, just like him. I can feel the power in him that surged, strength from a thousand armies. He is the very mountains that we live in, unmoving and steady.

In those few seconds, he spoke a secret language to me, maybe telepathically. Because within five seconds he drew his knife back and I kissed him. He trembled, and I trembled as well. We fit together like long lost puzzles, the way that my hands wrap around his neck, touched his soft skin that’s wet with sweat, how his hands touched my waist, his other behind my ear. He held me with so much reassurance even though he shook more than me.

I want more. So I drank more of him. Kissed him deeper, felt the taste of strawberries and apples on his lips. He seemed to let me into his touch, wanted more of me. We’re both hungry for something for a fruit that has to ripen. 

When he drew back and opened his eyes, he smiled, but also there’s a tear running down his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, my skin warm, my curly brown, hair sticky against my forehead.

He grinned, face like the sun, “I feel like I could eat the earth raw.”

But his amber eyes swam with something else. I didn’t press any further. This was enough.

  
  


_“You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward._

  
  


We snuck out into the middle of the night and the field of grass. The moon glowed on us and gave her light, bathed everything in a soft blue hue and kissed our skins with warmth. Mako dragged me through the fields, led me while he held my hand through the grass. We were like children, our joy is so bright that it could be seen from thousands of miles away, bright enough that it could alert the fire nation. But it didn’t matter. We were drunk on each other.

The grass cut my skin and we tumbled into each other’s arms all silly. He sat up, tipped his head into the moon while I sat on his lap. Everything was still and silent, we could pretend that it was just the two of us that existed.

“I want to show you something,” he whispered, voice shaky.

I didn’t say anything. He held out his palm out away from me and conjured a flame that flickered, coating everything and near it in its warm hue, just like the sun.

“You’re a firebender,” I whispered, I let my thumb skate across his lips, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought you would hate me?” He put out the fire and held my face, I could still feel the heat.

“Why would I hate you? You’ve given me no reason to hate you,” I said, “how are you even able to firebender, isn’t your brother an earthbender—“

“—my mother is from fire nation, my dad is from Ba Sing Se.”

A forbidden love story, there’s something beautiful in tragedy, just like us, how we fit _so_ well together. But I didn’t say that.

“I don’t want to firebend, I’m fine without it.”

I nodded, “you mother, where is she? Is she back at the fire nation?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” is all I could say, I followed it with a kiss on his temple. The air smelled of pine and grass.

“It’s fine, as long as I’m with you,” he whispered back.

But my tongue ran away from me and I found myself talking. This and this and this, I said to him. I talked about how pretentious my family is with politics or how stuck up they are to the king, hoping and praying that they could get me to the throne if they manipulate enough people.

The moon gave us her silver light and outlined us like a painting. I took into notion how my brown skin glowed and how I could feel every nerve, every hair on my skin and every time our skin brushed next to each other. I did not care if someone could catch us, and it’ll all be over for us. Let them. I have lived a thousand lives with this man all through simple touches and the way we kissed.

  
  


_“I can’t.”_

  
  


The training is over. I even learned some fighting skills too, I’m no longer meek, but I’m no warrior. Along with weapons that we carry on our backs forged from heavy steel Mako learned chi-blocking, which was much tougher than expected.

Mako has already gone ahead, said to me that he was in the rapids. I took my clothes and placed them into a sack along with food and medicine that I made.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, heavy.

“You know of his nature don’t you?” He asked.

I turned around and saw his face in the heavy grey cloak that he wore, face wrinkled from age and wisdom, hair turned grey. He looks tired from the world. No wonder he wanted to live out in the cave.

“Yes,” I said, I hope he’s not referring to his firebending.

“You are foolish to be his _friend_.”

“How?” I took the faded purple cloak and threw it on myself, my older self would’ve cried over a simple thing such as faded colour. I took my sack with me.

“You’re making him all soft, he’s a warrior.”

“I know that I’m his companion and I look out for him.”

Just as I was about to leave he gripped my wrist, I didn’t turn around, “he’s a killer and has the strength of a whole fire nation army that rivals the Avatar. Don't forget that. You tame a wild tiger and it would still be capable of mauling you to shreds—“

“—he’s not.”

“You can use a sword as a knife but it will still be a sword. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but it will not change its nature.”

I go cold and silent, words lodged into me. He’s wrong, Mako is different under all of that amber and fire and inferno there’s something else. I just have to find it.

“You’re wrong,” I said, and I shook him off.

“You are a forest and he is the inferno. Don’t come crying back to me when you burst into flames.”

_Do not come back crying to me._

Just like my mother said.

I didn’t say anything. I ran as fast as I could to Mako and hugged him. I tried to forget his words, but it haunted me. I think those were the few signs that told me to stay away. But even if I read those signs, I would’ve chased Mako into the very ends of the universe.

  
  


_“I know. They never let you be famous and happy.”_

  
  
  


It was in the middle of the night, the campfire is just ash now. He rested his head on my chest. 

“Between you and the Avatar, who do you think might win?” I asked on a whim.

He laughed, “I don’t know,” he said. But I think he knew his boundaries and how far he could push. The Avatar is on another level than him, a god. But it’s fine, Mako is something unearthly and took up the whole room when he stepped into it.

  
  


_He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you a secret.”_

  
  


We felt like gods. After we found a team of rebels to fight against the fire nation, crippled their supply lines, ambushed supply lines and even fought small armies all with ease. We were unstoppable, Mako was. We’re settled along a lake where some of the waterbenders trained with the earthbenders, the sand hot against the soles of feet. We were the size of a small army, we were close, all of us. 

Each night we always found ourselves around the giant fire pit that crackled into the night, Mako laughed at someone’s joke while he threw in another log to feed the flame. He still wore the cloak that he wore in battle, he wore mine, the faded purple with all the embroidery long gone. It is a reminder that I’m still with him even though he’s out fighting while I stayed and helped with the waterbender healers.

“How much loot did we get today?” Masko asked he put down the bowl of soup on the sand.

“A few gold necklaces, nothing new,” one of the leaders hummed.  
  


“I’ll take it then.”

“Fine by me.”

My eyes reflected the flame that flickered. Mako has grown to hoard the treasure and all the pride, the antique sword that was found in one of the fire nation outposts. Everything that shone he took. I don’t care for such things anymore, it took me a while to let go of priceless jewellery and luxuries.

But this, this was new to Mako. He was born in the rags and had nothing. When he first took a necklace made of gold that glinted he looked it at like a caveman, but quickly hungered for more and more, just like honey is to bear or how he is to me. His hunger for this, it had no limit. 

“Mako, I saw your face with darts in one of the outposts, it was struck by darts,” an earthbender chirped.

“Who struck the darts?” Mako asked.

“Probably one of the generals,” another earthbender said, “more likely General Omazu. You should challenge him to a duel, he is a great firebender.”

The other has stopped talking and a hush fell over us. It was silent. Mako looked into the fire, face coated with warmth, it was like the flames licked him. If I could, and it was just the two of us, I would take his hand and hold it, tuck the hair that grew too long. But I could not. I bit my tongue to stop myself from doing that.

“Please, what has General Omazu ever done to me?” He said and turned to me with that smile.

  
  


_“Tell me.” I loved it when he was like this._

  
  


He took me to one of his battles. He wore all of his pads and tunic and light armour under all of that cloak. He told me not to wear heavy armour, just leather, something that is light. It was an ambush on another outpost just near Ba Sing Se where the coup already happened. They told me it was the size of a small army. Mako told me not to worry. He swore to me the night before that he would protect me, whispered it to my soft brown skin like a secret.

I held the spear close to me. I am no meek, rich kid anymore. I’m no stick. My calves are thick with muscle when Mako forced me to train in our spare time, my hands calloused, shoulders and biceps grew just a little bit. If someone saw me they could mistake me for a warrior in training. I’m no warrior, however.

I wonder how my mother would look at me. She would say nothing. I would boast, look, mother, I am not just a stick and bones, nor a kid in riches. I am something else.

Everything blurred when we pushed into the ambush. The movement of bodies and the fire that blazed, the smell of ash and blood that overpowered the pine and grass. I did not know where to look, many bodies clashed and earth rose to the ground to block the barrage of fire. My heart thumped against my ribs.

“Stand behind me,” Mako said. And I did. 

I could not see what his face looked like, covered by a mask that resembled the blue spirit. But I could picture it, unmoving, steady, relaxed, just like when I saw him train. His amber eyes swam with something else I could not read, maybe excitement that brimmed, fury from the inferno that he held inside him.

He pushed me to the side to dodge a stream of flame that flowed like the melted sun. He answered with a quick draw of a bow and I can see how his shoulders were formed, outlined by the cloak. The arrow struck deep into the fire nation soldier’s neck, they did not make a sound. They fell and did not make a noise.

I followed him through the battle, used my spear to mostly defend myself. But I could see the way that he jumped as he took his two swords behind his back and thrust it deep into the soldier, he moved without mercy, killed with no hesitation. It was not natural, it was a miracle, perhaps we were moulded to be the gods themselves, a demi-god, whatever that means.

I think back to what that man told me in the cave.

_“You can use a spear as a walking stick, but it will not change its nature.”_

“You’re wrong,” I breathed out.

_“You are a forest and he is the inferno. Don’t come crying back to me when you burst into flames.”_

I didn’t realise that I was mirroring Mako. Because within a few seconds all the fury and anger came through within the spear that I threw. It struck one of the firebenders and it pinned them to the tree, an ugly sight as they went limp, blood dripped down. I stared in horror. This. This was a fraction of what Mako was, and I simply mirrored what he had done.

He isn’t human. 

  
  


  
  



	2. but it will not change it's nature

_“I’m going to be the first.”_

  
  


That night we entered the tent that we slept, he took the lantern that hung and dimmed it. Our tent is big, and all of the treasure and gold glimmer in the corner, a reward from the battlefield. Our bed is big enough to fit both of us. He took off his cloak and his armour, I watched his back, his bones, his shoulder blades, they all shifted and slowly rose and fell. 

I let my chest touch his back, dirty, a little bruised. I settled my head into the crook of his shoulder while he stared at the mirror. 

“Do you think we can live in the mountains after all of this is over?” I asked, hands around his waist, trying to remember how his muscles felt, the grooves and the slopes of it. I didn’t know why I asked this stupid question, I knew the answer. He will die by the battlefield. He’s one of the best warriors in our generation and his name will be etched into history.

“Do you want to?” He let a sly smile spill, the corners of his lips, I see it, I’ve kissed it so many times. 

“I want to,” I said, pressing a soft kiss on the spot on his neck where I had last night. I want more than this, I want to hold his hand in public. But the moments in the tent or the middle of the night is enough, where we let our hands roam in the dark. We don’t need light from the fire. We have memorized how breaths came. He is shaky and impatient. Mine is soft and deep. We know each other by touch, by smell; we would find each other even if we were both blind, we would know each other at the end of the world.

He is half of my soul, as the poets say.

“I would like to,” he whispered, “do you want to?”

“Yes.”

I know he is lying. But I do not care. I let the silence surround us like a warm hug, he put his hand above my left hand, I felt his callouses, the roughness and the dirt. This, I will have this and nothing more. This is fine. We can love in the silence and the middle of the night. Nothing leaves this tent. It’s full of ghosts, of our most intimate moments, of secrets.

  
  


_He took my palm and held it to his._

“You can’t just turn your back on them!” I said to him inside the tent, he followed me and for a brief moment the sun lit everything up before it plunged everything in the darkness, “you’re letting your pride and your _stupid_ riches get in the way, Mako.”

He took off his cloak, it isn’t scorched and there’s no drop of blood on it, “I don’t think you understand--”

“--Understand that what, Mako? They need you.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you withdrawing from the rebellion?”

He doesn't say anything. I sat on the bed and let the silence wallow over us. I think I’m drowning in it, “help me understand, Mako.”

He took off his tunic and said, “the generals insulted me and dragged my name through the earth.”

“Is that all?”

He took off his shoes, “yes.”

I laughed, “how can you let this get in the way?”

“Because I’ve been through hell and back,” his voice boomed, filled up the corners of the tent, it was like he was a god, “my name is all I have left to me, I was dirt poor and had to steal to keep my family afloat. I had to become the father and the brother that Bolin needed. I won’t let my name--”

“--what would Bolin think of when he sees you?” I whispered.

Something shifted in him. Everything stopped. I want to apologise, to let my flow of _sorries_ fill the room, imprint it into his neck. But at the same time, I don’t want to. 

Later that night he curled up next to me, let his head fall on the crook of his shoulder while his strong arms balled into fists, heat emanated from them. In the darkness he let the tears fall hot, my hands ran through his black hair I trimmed an hour ago. I felt every nerve, every shift and every bit of him give into me. He trusts me, a whole warrior that has the strength of a thousand men.

It’s terrifying.

“Easy there big guy,” I whispered as a joke.

He laughed.

  
  


_“Swear it.”_

  
  


We fall into a routine of walking away from the camp and to wander around the woods, to lose ourselves within each other under the waterfall that had the clearest waters. He would warm the water near him, steam would rise and I would send him tumbling down to the water in laughter.

When I’m not tangled up in him I’m working with the other waterbenders in the tent, I can’t bend like them, but I can help the wounded with simple herbs and plants around the camp. They all smile at me and give me praise for something so simple. All of them always come to me for help, from burns to minor injuries or a broken bone.

It feels good. The camp also grew more from time, it buzzed into our own home. The scouting missions and the outposts ambushes always come back neutral without Mako. I have grown accustomed to this life, to go and heal and end up in his arms every night. But this will all go away, we’re on borrowed time, I can feel it.

Fear has taken a hold of my skin and it has latched itself. It’s not a matter of _how_ the fire nation will find us rebels, but _when_. There will come a time when they will set the fire to the forest, and the waterbenders won’t be enough to put it out. Time ticked by. By the way, Mako lit the lantern in our tent with his finger, or how he kissed the corner of my lips. This is all fleeting. 

One night, I whispered, “when we die, we should have our ashes mingle together and our bodies buried together.”

“They will know, then,” Mako whispered.

“Then that’s how we will tell everyone.”

  
  


_“Why me?”_

The time broke. It has come. The fire nation has found our camp and they marched on the sand. It smelled of ash and smoke. I ran to the tent and found him there, unmoving, still, a fire flickered from his palm as he sat in the middle of the tent.

“Mako--”

“I’m not going to save them.”

I kneeled in front of him like I’m praying, guided his other hand to my cheek, tears flowed down my cheeks, “they are innocent people that are dying, even if you showed yourself they would probably run from fear.”

He did not say anything. I cried. I cried for the innocent lives that are dying outside. To the soldiers, I have mended. To the earthbenders who are being surrounded. To the waterbenders who flow like the water that they control. I cry for myself too, because I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t persuade him to come. I have failed.

“Then do it for _me_ ,” I whispered.

He extinguished the flame in his hand, he took his other hand and cupped my face, “anything other than that.”

I looked into his amber eyes, the very inferno that powered him, “if you _loved_ me--”

  
  
“Don’t do this.”

“ _Sweetheart_.”

My eyes, they’re deep and vast like a forest. I let him stare into me. He was right. I am forest. He is an inferno. I am bursting into flames. Is it too late to come back to him crying?

“Then send me out in your armour and my cloak then.”

“You can’t fight. They will kill you.”

“I can with a bow.”

I let his head fall on my chest, he gripped me like I was already dead, and I’m just a dead body, trying to grab a hold of something that has already left the earth. I kissed his hair, kissed his ear, kissed his forehead.

“You can’t go,” he choked out.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll stay far away from them with a bow, the benders will help me.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

I stroked his cheek, he didn’t look at me, “trust me as I trusted you. Please.”

“Don’t chase them,” he said.

He rose slowly, took my hand to help me stand up. We kissed. He didn’t taste the summer, of strawberries and apples, of the fruits that we ate. He tasted of salt from the tears that came down. When we pulled apart he helped me into his leather tunic, his boots, his pants, everything he helped me with. I let his finger linger on my skin for just a little bit too long. I let him take his time when he fitted his gloves to my hand, the cloak as well.

He handed me the bow. It was made just for him, fitted so well against his hand. But it fitted against me too. I have the mask in my hand.

He looked at me and said, “come back.”

Not come back to me.

Not hurry back.

Just.

Come.

Back.

“I will,” I said to him, and I kissed him. I didn’t know if I could keep that promise. Maybe it was a bitter lie that I told.

In the battlefield when they saw me I took up space, I demanded authority and respect. The other benders cheered and I fed them morality even though I was not him. Perhaps it was the armour that moulded me, it was his, it _fitted_ not only for him but for me as well. Or maybe it was the years of watching me train with the bow, how he moved so effortlessly.

Because the position that I found myself when I drew the bow wasn’t awkward or heavy, it was higher and stronger. I let the first arrow run through as it cut through the blaze of fire and landed straight through the neck of a fire soldier. _Dead_ , I thought as I watched their face hit the ground.

I mirrored him. I became him. I summoned what he was in battle, even though it was only a fraction of what he was, it was okay. My feet thudded against the sand and I picked up a spear from the ground and threw it, it struck one of the fire nation soldiers. I feel this power that surged me, is this what he felt? This euphoria? This high? I felt like a god. After every throw, every spear that I chuck out and every breath that I breathed.

We drove them to the forest and I let the high run through me, led me to follow them into the forest. I took out the sword and slashed the ferns and plants that went in my way. _Mako_ , I said to myself, _is this how you felt? How could you do this? This much power?_

A barrage of flame caught my attention. I see him.

General Omazu.

I lust for blood that I did not know I had, for this chase that is so new to me. I caught a glimpse of his face and the world exploded into flames, nearly setting my cloak on fire. I trip over one of the roots and land on the mud, the mask falling off my face. The reflection of my lover’s strength is gone, it has left me.

I see him approach me, a grin on his face, flame on his palm. He knew who I was, Wu. Not Mako. They know him and his ‘companion’ who he sleeps with at night. I will only be a trophy to him. He cannot kill me. He must not. Mako will burn the forest to the ground to gain a window of release when he kills him. Omazu cannot die. He has to live.

I am a baby compared to his strength, I feel the heat of his flame, hot, burning with fury, but Mako’s inferno burns brighter. I try to get the words out, but they fail me. No. Do not kill me. Mako will set the whole world on fire just for me. He will be a flame that can never be put out.

He kneels in front of me and I do not feel fear, I feel sorrow, guilt, an abyss that has opened up and is swallowing me. He brandishes a knife from fire and I feel the knife slit my throat, the pain hot, burning my throat, my body, every cell inside me. I drowned in my blood, it stained my brown skin. My breaths stop and the last thing I think of is: _Mako_.

_Ma-ko_

  
  


_“Because you’re the reason. Swear it.”_

  
  


I am dead. I cannot speak. My spirit is still tethered to my body when he sees me, falling on my body in the forest. No one told him. Mako had to find me like this. An ugly scream comes out of his mouth and if I was alive, I would let my hands trail to his cheek, trace his jawline and wipe the tears away.

Mako. I want to say. But the air in my lungs has long left me. He held me and carried me to the night back to his tent, he placed me onto his bed. He whispered my name so many times that it became like the sound of the wind. Wu. He said. Wu. Wu. Wu. I knew he wanted to apologise to me, to say the words. He doesn't need to say it. I already know that he’s sorry. I’m sorry too.

I can feel the faint beat of his chest, like the wings of a bird. It’s like an echo. One of the waterbenders came into the tent, he didn’t care that he was vulnerable, that they can see him like this, naked, afraid, hugging my dead body, trying to hold onto something that wants to leave the earth.

“Who did this,” he said.

“Some said it was by General Omazu--”

  
  
“Get out.”

“But--”  
  


“Get out! Get out!”

I can feel the room grow hotter, I want to whisper to him and tell him to calm down. But all I manage to do is make a gust of wind.

“I did this to him, get out,” his teeth show, trying to gain back his name, Mako, the non-bender who’s power could only crumble under the Avatar. They looked at me, disgust at a man holding me, or a man holding my dead body. I did not know.

They leave too quickly.

He said my name again and it filled the room, drowning the both of us. I see his face as if underwater, like how a fish sees the sun. He lets the tears fall, I cannot reach out and wipe them away. This is what I am now, an unburied spirit.

After a day he snuck into the middle of the night and left my body, the smell grew and took over, no one has said anything. He found Omazu in the river, quiet and calm as he took the water into his palms and splashed it into his face. I tried to warn him. Mako would not stop until he had found him.

He did not bring any weapons with him. He did not wear the mask. He didn’t even take the armour off me. He only wore the cloak that I gave to him, which is now dirty and colour like ash.

He brandished a knife from fire. It burned hot from the inferno that burned inside him. I tried to scream, tell him to stop, it’s not worthed, we can stay in the tent while he hugs my dead body. But all I do is make a gust of wind that carries the smell of death. Omazu looked at him with awe, and he sent out a barrage of fire that Mako disintegrates into nothingness, then he took two fingers and moved in a way like water.

“What are you--”

  
  
Before Omazu could speak he’s struck with a bolt of lightning that lit up the whole forest for a moment. He is sent back, and an ugly burn is on his chest that sends him to the ground. Mako huffed, the way that his feet struck the ground and how he took up space, he is otherworldly, but he has lost the only thing that he has.

Me.

_No_ , I beg him. Do not kill him. He doesn't hear me.

“You should’ve joined us,” Omazu choked out, Mako towered over him like a mountain, “a fire nation soldier, how could you abandon us?  
  


“It doesn’t matter what side I’m on, there’s nothing keeping me here on this earth.”

Omazu coughed out blood, “I beg you to give my body to my wife when you have killed me.”

This only angered him, his eyebrows knitted, “There are no bargains in war,” his knife burned hot, “I will kill you and eat you raw,” his knife dug deep into where Omazu has killed me, the knife sliced his throat and everything was silent. The second of peace is gone like the wind. He is dead.

He dragged his body back to camp. Everyone looked at him.

At the tent, the waterbender is there again, wiped away the blood and dirt from my face. I remember her. I forgot her name, however. She was sweet and full of life, the type of person who had the soul of the sun. She’s not only a great healer but a good defence on the battlefield, but she never inflicted harm into anyone else. We talked a lot in the medical tent, and we flowed so well. She’s my very first friend.

“Get away from him.”

“I’m almost done he doesn’t deserve to look like this.”

Mako gritted his teeth, “you don’t know anything about him.”

  
She stood up, “how could you send him out like that?” Her voice was bitter with grief, I knew she wanted to hurt him, the very first time I have felt this from her, “You knew he couldn’t fight!”

The water on the cup vibrated. But the heat that grew was stronger. This is Mako, he demanded and took up space. This is him.

“Get out!”  
  


“He’s worth more than what you are, Mako,” she said with spite.

“I tried to stop him,” he said, the room grew hotter and the lantern shone brighter, but his tone was something that wasn’t human, but was a cry of a hurt lion, “I told him not to chase them.”

“He fought for you to save you and your stupid reputation.”

A flame flickered from his palm and burned bright, “Get out!”

She looked at him in horror. But I know her, she is a keeper of secrets. She will not tell anyone.

“I wished that Omazu killed you,” she said.

“Everything in me wanted him to kill me,” he breathed out, “I’m already dead.”

  
  


_“I swear it, “ I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes._

  
  


The next day he carries me to the fire in the middle of the camp. My corpse sags as he carries me, I am weak and frail, just like how I was once. He did not cry, he cried into my body for an hour to let it all out before. I watched him in the fire, amber eyes swam with the inferno, of the fury that he took strength from.

I feel myself slipping further from the earth, yearning for the darkness and to slip into the afterlife. I am tired, but a small part of me still stays on the earth. Him. Mako. I will wait for him until the very end.

He collected my ashes himself, despite it being a woman’s job. He puts it in a golden urn and turns around to everyone and said: “When I am dead, I ask one of you to mingle our ashes and bury us together. My brother Bolin will take over me,” he said, “I’m not fit to be a leader.”

  
I know that they will not mingle our ashes together. They cannot bear to imagine two men who have loved each other. He has tainted his name, etched it into history all bloody. But he did not care. He only cared about me when he took the urn and went back into the tent. He lost everything, nothing is keeping him here. He’s only waiting for his time when he dies.

  
  


_“I swear it,” he echoed._

  
  


Although General Omazu was gone, other people took his place, other people with names and lowlife generals fought the rebels with fury. A loose firebender who’s name is Reron, who’s flames is a mere mouse compared to the inferno that Mako had in his eyes. He killed him with his sword and left him to rot in the battlefield.

General Nia was a strong-headed leader who was disciplined, she was controlled in her barrages of fire but didn’t pull from the power of the sun. This was her downfall when the flames did not burn bright enough to melt the wooden arrow that struck her neck. She fell while the blood seeped underneath her.

When he fought, he always had something else in his mind, I was clouding him. He moved slower but did not care. He did not bother to even wear his armour, only wearing the cloak and the mask. He is already accepting his death. He wanted to feel his ashes next to mine, but I knew I would feel nothing. There is a non-bender fire nation soldier who stood in the shadows, his arrow glinted in the darkness.

I tried to scream. He cannot die for me. He heard the faint hum of the arrow but it was too late. I watched him collapse to the ground, the arrow struck through his ribs, wormed past muscle and into the heart. Blood spills against his shoulder blades, it tensed, then relaxed.

He smiled before he struck the ground.

_We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned._

  
  


His brother took over the rebellion. Bolin. A huge voice that demanded authority but also treated everyone as equal. He was a great earthbender, who knew how to work the ground beneath him, how to strike and when to wait. He is a better leader than Mako. The three of us knew it.

But no one has told him about us. They acted like we didn’t exist, and they told us that we were merely on a scouting mission together far away into the fire nation, important due to the final moments before the Sozin’s comet. They took our stuff and buried us in a hill far away from here which overlooked the lake. I haven’t seen it yet, but I know they did not bury us together.

In the night I watched him surround the fire where both of us were burned for our ashes. They’re moving the camp somewhere closer to Ba Sing Se to prepare for the attack. I want to reach out to Bolin, tell him that what they are saying is lies. We aren’t just friends. We are more than that. We would be able to find each other in so many more lifetimes, in the afterlife.

But all I get is a gust of wind.

  
  


_“I feel like I could eat the whole world raw.”_

  
  


I looked over to our tombstones. It was hastily made, they took more time with his tomb. Mine was chipped at the edges. _Wu_ , it said. And beside it, _Mako_. I am tied to the earth. I cannot follow where Mako is, he is somewhere else, and I do not know here. He isn’t in the spirit world. I curl myself around my tomb. I can’t cross over. I don’t know why.

I hear the footsteps thud. When I see it’s him that has trained us. The man that lived in the cave.

“Wu,” he said, and he looked at me like he could see me, “your waterbender friend told us everything.”

  
  
I smile. I want to thank her. 

He looked over to the camp where everything was being stripped apart. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t do enough,” he said.

_No,_ I said. _Don’t be sorry, I knew this was going to happen_. But he did not hear me. 

“How can you love him?” He said.

_Because I gave everything to him, he is a part of me, and I’m lost without him. I’m cursed to be here, destined to be rooted in place while the world keeps going while I’m stuck in this very moment_.

“She also told his brother.”

  
  
 _Good_.

He emerged from the forest and wore the cloak that Mako wore in battle. He wore a soft smile and gestured to him to move. 

  
“I will settle your ashes next to each other,” Bolin mumbled, tears stung his face. I don’t want him to cry with sad tears, I want him to remember for who he was, his name. Mako. The man that I have loved and gave Ba Sing Se so much time, the man that loved too much.

The earth shifted and the sun hung long over the horizon, bathed everything in a hue of oranges and yellows. I pictured him in his mind, the man I knew. Mako, with his eyes that glowed of warmth and fire, black hair that shone in the sunlight. _Catch_ , he says in the field yellow grass where he trained. I caught the fruit, an apple that had just ripen. 

I am made of memories. My fears have been forgotten. The memories, it comes and comes like grains of sands. It flows. I can feel his touch against my skin, how it left behind a trail of warmth like the sun.

“Go,” the old man said, “he is waiting for you.”

_In the nothingness, two hands reach out through the heavy air. Their hands meet, and from that spark, light floods in like melted gold and broke the abyss._


End file.
